It had always been this way. Even as a young girl, the night was the most comfortable, the most welcoming time of all. Its air was coolest, its smells were cleanest, its shadows were most intriguing. She loved the sound of all the animals scurrying about trying to survive, searching for mates, or just hurrying along on their unknown paths. When the moon was out, the light seemed beautiful, making lovely shades of dark gold in the forests. Even the rain caused a smell that excited her from her earliest memories.

When she first became a woman, the streams were the only water that could make her feel clean after her blood had slipped out of her body. Even the coldest mountain springs never chilled her, but rather stimulated her whole nervous system. Lying on the pine needles or leaves of the forest in the dark had always been her favorite bed. She never feared even the wildest animals, and they seemed to sense her kinship. The stars made her want to reach out for them in their density. The breeze was always the most exciting caress her skin could feel. The brush of leaves against her skin in the forest, or the rasp of sand on her feet in the desert all made her sure that there was perfection in the world.

She had always hunted for game. When she was only five, she caught a young rabbit. She had seen the cats eat the little animals, but couldn't bring herself to kill it, so she released it. Her father had taught her to hunt when she was barely eight, using a little twenty two rifle. She shot a racoon with her first bullet, and from then on drew praise from the older men who watched her skill at tracking, and at killing. It pleased her dad greatly.

She saw the men killing for the sake of it, but never felt the pleasure they seemed to get from such sport. From the beginning, she would eat whatever she killed. If she could not eat it, she would not hunt for it. She learned to cook early as a result, quickly gaining the skill to gut and skin the animals and birds so plentiful then. She would always eat the least cooked portions of the roasted carcasses, and was sure she could manage raw flesh if necessary. Whatever social mores kept most people from reflecting their savage roots, she never acquired.

Her face and body had always seemed to suit her character. Her hair was a tawny auburn, and curled freely. She had dark and prominent eyebrows, which made her large eyes seem wild. Her wide mouth and full lips gave her a fierce appearance from her youth. It was a beautiful face, but feral, seeming to reflect a savage nature. In truth, that was nearly accurate. She would have felt at home in the indian tribes that once inhabited Arizona.

She had always been strong. Living with her parents in the ranch at the foot of the mountains, she had loved doing the work of raising the horses, and feeding the livestock. As a result, her shoulders were broad and well developed, and she would have been described as chunky had there been the slightest bit of fat on her body. Strangely, she never developed an interest in riding, preferring to hike, and as she got older, to run through the desert and up the mountain trails. Her long legs were powerful with the physical exertion she enjoyed. She was a little too muscular to be described as having a good figure in the conventional sense, but she never cared.

Her mother had taken her to Phoenix when she was twelve and tried to make her feminine. They had cut her hair, straightened it, dressed her in dainty skirts and blouses, and bound her feet into heeled shoes. She had left the local high school and spent two months in the best finishing school available. She had tried, but one night during a thunderstorm, she had slipped out a window and walked out into the desert, knowing they would not look for her there. She stayed in the paths of sand heading for home, spending three days. When she arrived, pleading to never return to the ballrooms, etiquette classes, and formal dining, her mother had taken one look at her tanned face and stubborn posture, and said to her father "Well, she's your child. It's your decision."

Her father had smiled at her, remembering the police who feared for her when she was not found quickly, knowing they did not know his not-so-little girl very well. She was not the least tired from her long walk, and he had never really been worried about her ability to take care of herself. "I don't think we're going to make a lady of you, Merry. Maybe we can make you a rancher, though." She always remembered that wish of his, and even after the accident which only his mother survived, and she sold the ranch, Merry studied husbandry in college.

As she stood in her stepfather's garden, the night comforted her sense of loss at the death of her mother. She was a year short of graduating, but didn't really feel she would miss it, and had gone to college mostly to satisfy her parent anyway. She thought she could probably get a job at the dude ranch where she had spent her summer vacations, and being in the mountains, she thought it would be a better life than the cold classrooms. She would have liked a little more freedom, but reality was intruding as it had six years ago.

She had blossomed into a spectacular looking woman, if unconventional in both dress and appearance. Her breasts had developed quickly at thirteen, and were always firm, with small, prominent nipples. She had run cross country throughout her adolescence. As a result, her compact, muscular body had simply acquired the curves which maturity brought, while retaining the tawny slimness of her youth. Her face was still the same, pretty but fierce. Her hair fell almost to her waist now, and she tied it into a loose ponytail. It still framed her face. She was a little short for the breadth of her shoulders. She was no cheerleader, but had always gotten plenty of attention from boys. She had made love freely from an early age, and was a demanding lover, insisting that boys give her pleasure when she slept with them. Her attitude toward sex was based on her experience with animals, and she never worried about gossip about her wild sensuality, knowing that the few boys who had been able to please her were just as fulfilled themselves.

The news about her mother had come this afternoon, and she had come here immediately. Her stepfather was devastated, having devoted himself to her, though Merry thought that mother had never really gotten over her dad. He was a wealthy man, but soft in his soul, and he had needed her mother's certainty. Merry liked him, but couldn't help comparing him to her memory of her father. He had discussed funeral arrangement sat dinner, and then gone upstairs to his room. Neither of his sons had gotten here yet, because they were both back east.

Though they had not been close, she would miss her mother. On the rare occasions when she had been uncertain of her feelings, or about how to act with boys, the rather regal lady had always been able to help, mostly by listening. They were vastly different people, but as her only parent, mother had tried to fill in for Dad. Merry felt she had gotten through her teenage years without any damage, and supposed that was all she could ask of her parents. Nonetheless, her heart was heavy.

"Meredith." It was her stepfather. "Yes sir." "Couldn't you call me David, or Father Morris, or something besides sir? I understand I'm just your step dad, but I'd like you to rely on me if ever you should need something." "Do you mind David? It suits you." What did she mean by that, he wondered. "That would be fine, Meredith. I was sitting upstairs feeling sorry for myself, and saw you standing here. I realized that I'm so lost in my own hurt I wasn't much solace to you. Plus there are some things about your mother's will you should know. ""David, I guess I just have to work out my grief in my own mind, and you shouldn't worry about me. My parents made me my own person, don't you think?"

Understatement of the decade, he mused. She was fiercely independent, to the point where it had worried her mother. "She's always been her father's child, Dave. Like a cowboy. I wish she could bring herself to share more of her thoughts with me. But part of me is so proud of herself confidence." She had never realized how sexy Meredith was, and how many men would rush to help her if they got the chance.

"Meredith, you're going to end up very well off in a financial sense. The proceeds from the ranch were in the market the last six years, and the fund has ended up doing better than anyone could have dreamed. I know money's not all that important to you, but it will permit you to be independent, and I think that is something you care about. Still, you have to decide what to do with your life. Your mother bought a cabin on two hundred acres up the mountain from your old ranch, and she wanted you to have that too. She was going to give it to you when you turned twenty one, as a surprise." Merry was the kind of woman who looked straight in your eyes when you talked to her, and he often thought she could read his mind. It was disconcerting, and a couple of his friends had admitted to him that she had shocked them with her candor at cocktail parties. They always blushed, and he guessed they had been secretly lusting for her. She had probably burst their bubbles. It was going to take someone special to handle her, he thought.

"Meredith, I know you don't need me. But I would hope you see that I want to help you as a sort of memory of your mother. So please don't exclude me from your life." She heard his voice choke, and took his hand. There was nothing she could say to relieve his sense of loss. But it was a relief to know that she would not have to make any quick decisions over money, and she thought she knew which property he was talking about.

It had been built by an architect as a second home, part of her Dad's original homestead. It was deep in the woods, and in a great setting. She had never been inside. It seemed to her it was near a stream, and had several rooms. She remembered passing it when she hiked, and thinking about what a great place to live it would be. There wasn't another house within twenty miles. Mother had known her better than she realized.

They stood quietly for a few minutes. She sensed his need for some response from her. "David, thank you for the good news. You were a good husband." She saw him wince, and hugged him as his breathing rasped. "I'll go up to visit the cabin as soon as the funeral is over. I think I know the place. It'll be perfect for me." He pulled away, and kissed her cheek wordlessly. Then she was alone again. But not lonely, for the night was around her.

Three days later, she pulled into the glade after two hours of driving, the last thirty minutes over a dirt road. The funeral had been at two, and she had left immediately afterwards. When she had told David she was going, his oldest son had leered "Why not stay, Merry. We haven't spent any time together." She had looked at him and answered "That's a game you're not ready for, Jack." His Dad had chuckled. No Yalie studs for her, he thought.

The house was rundown. It was two levels, one facing south, the other east. Glass walls gave clear views of the valley on one side, and the stream one hundred yards away on the other. She saw several spots on the roof where the tiles had blown off, and one gutter was hanging loose at the back. The wood siding had held up well, though. She didn't see any broken glass. Hefting two of the bags of groceries she had brought, she unlocked the front door.

Dust covered everything, but she had expected that. What pleased her was the view of the woods from the large living room to her left as she entered. There was a sectional sofa arranged to take advantage of it. She put the bags on the counter of the small kitchen to her right, then climbed the wide steps to the upstairs where a study with wide doors, and the master bedroom, faced behind her to the desert. She opened the sliding glass door of the study, and a similar one in the bedroom. A king size mattress without bedding faced the windows. The view through the dirty glass was magnificent. The house was warm from the afternoon sun. She pulled off her light blazer. As she stood gazing at the desert in the distance, a sense of both isolation and freedom overwhelmed her.

She let her memories surface in her mind. Her father's strong physicality, her mother's conventional opinions, her own love of natural life. She loved animals in a way that she realized in college few others could. Their simple goals kept the pangs of self doubt from clouding their single minded search for simple pleasures. She had always resented civilized restrictions on her impulses. She had seen those often conflicting rules cause unhappiness in almost everyone she had met.

She had been fortunate to have her love of basics. Clothes were one of civilizations great enslavers. The frivolity of so many people's devotion to wearing "just the right thing" had amused her, but was another cause of her rejection of convention. Here, alone, in her own place, she should be able to make her own rules. Merry stripped off her shirt and jeans. Her white bra and brief panties were plenty. There was no one around to force her to cover her skin.

Downstairs, she opened both doors facing the woods, and felt air begin to move with the cross ventilation. Perfect, she mused. She could almost feel her skin's pores open. The thermostat had a cool as well as a heat setting, but she didn't turn either on. The musky smell was clearing out fast. She put the food away, pleased that the refrigerator started running as soon as she turned it on. She kicked off her shoes, and went back out to the car to get the last bag of groceries and blanket from the trunk. A startled deer ran away as she slammed the door. Oh what a wonderful setting, she thought.

She drank a beer and ate a sandwich as the sun slowly faded. She puttered around, dusting with rags she had found under the kitchen sink. I can scrub it all tomorrow, she decided. She wanted to luxuriate in her new home. Away from the maddening drone of cars, motors, TV, idle chatter about nothing. Alone with herself, and the comfort of the coming night. If someone had been watching, her gloriously voluptuous body in the light cotton underwear moving languidly around the house would have started a riot.

As the sun slid down, the shadows in the trees came alive. The sounds began to reach her, like a symphony. It had been too long since she had enjoyed this song. She turned no lights on, finding her eyes easily adjusting, and besides there was a moon. I'll need sheets, a broom, a mop, a bucket, and towels. Shit. No hot water and she had no idea where the tank was. Then she smiled. I have my stream. She got another beer out of the fridge.

By the time she had finished it, darkness had settled on the glade. Bright stars showed through the tops of the trees, and the moon’s indirect light made a gorgeous scene outside the plate glass. I'm going to make them so clean that nothing will interfere with my view, she resolved. She felt no boredom, just the comfort of her surroundings, but she was a little bushed from the long day. She had found a ratty towel under the sink, and she picked it up and started to go outside.» Why bother with my bra and panties" she whispered to herself.

She reached behind her back to unstrap the binding cotton top. Her breasts hardly settled, but rounded out, the small, sensitive aureolapuckering. Her nipples seemed to harden with their freedom. Boys had always gone nuts for her tits, and she was always willing to have them suckle her, because they seemed connected to her pussy. She stripped off the panties, rubbing the untrimmed mass of pubic hair in a large triangle between her muscular legs. She dipped her hand into the furry slit briefly, feeling the nerves respond to her nudity. "This feels so good, so free" she murmured. "Might as well talk to myself, there's no one else. I don't want anyone else."

Walking out the door, her bare feet welcoming the feel of grass and earth, her skin coming alive with the night air, she felt a little thrill at her nakedness. She realized this was the first time she had ever felt she could do more than stand nude on a balcony outside. It was almost sexual, as though the night was caressing her, stimulating her cuntal passage, sucking her breasts. She walked slowly into the grove of trees between the house and the stream. Now the ground was covered with leaves, but was easy to walk on. She let a few low leaves touch her, again feeling a tingle in her groin. She reached behind her head and pulled the elastic band which held her ponytail in place. Her hair immediately spread out, brushing at her waist. It spread almost to the width of her shoulders, covering her back. Completely nude, she thought "Look at me, don't you like my body?" A little gust of wind seemed to answer "Yes".

She came to the shallow water gurgling lazily down the hill. A couple of rocks made little eddies that she could see reflecting the moonlight. As she waded in, the cold water thrilled her as it always had, awakening her senses. She waded to a deep spot, and sank to her back, then ducked her head under, wiping her face of the city's grime, running her fingers through her hair. The water felt incredibly erotic, so cold it was jangling her nerve ends. She massaged her titties, feeling the thrills radiating to her pussy, the nipples stiffened, the flesh tingling. Then she put both hands to her mound, jutting prominently out from her hips. Her labia were fat and large. Boys who got that far had always commented on what a sexy twat she had.

As she rubbed herself, she realized how turned on she had become, and a finger found her clitoris. It was also large, and she had never hesitated to masturbate, lacking any acceptance of society's efforts to stigmatize such pleasure. It also kept her from being a slave to men and their cocks. Her two index fingers went inside the heavy lips, and pinched together on the little nub. A jolt went through her, and she squeezed again. "Ummmm, fuck me, night." Another gust of wind. She climbed out of the stream, and toweled off, then lay on the matted leaves and began rubbing her hand up and down her slit, frictioning the love button hard. Then two fingers from her other hand dived in her hole, expanding it and making her clit jingle deliciously. "Aaagh,uumph, fuck."

She was out in the open, completely alone, and that added to the excitement she was causing in her cunt. She kept raising herself higher, celebrating her new home, her solitude, the sexy night. A light breeze kept her skin cool and alive, in her fevered mind the touch of the dark night air. She let herself cum, her cream gushing over her hand. She could smell the musk from it, and the thrills that shot through her body made her breathing heavy. She kept her fingers pulsing inside her, causing wave after wave of orgasm. A few boys had gotten her off better than her hand, but not many. She knew it was supposed to be best with another, but relied on her experience as in all things, and knew that only someone special could improve on this. She arched her hips and grinned at her pleasure.